Chapter 6 #3
Scott sensed something was wrong, but I insisted things were okay. He could be attentive when he wanted to be. As big and as empty as the house was when he wasn’t home, I couldn’t wait until he started working nights. It would make sneaking out or doing whatever I wanted easier.
“You sure I didn’t say anything to offend you?” Scott asked for the millionth time as we finished dinner. One thing about Scott, he was an amazing cook. The spicy chicken and rice he’d made had been to die for.
“No. I’m fine,” I told him.
“Well, maybe we could play a board game or something,” he said. “I found them under the cushions in the living room. Funny thing about that.”
Shit. “Listen, Scott—”
Ding.
My cell phone alerted me to a new text message.
It was from a 706 number, the local area code.
706-555-7808
What type of pic are you willing to send me to go out tonight?
Bonham.
Me
A video of what it’s like to be castrated
Bonham
Interesting
Bonham
Now I can’t just mosey on up to your door since your dad hates me. So come outside in 10 min and the adventure begins, pirate
Seriously, did the whole town hate Bonham?
Scott was sitting across from me, waiting for my response, when I looked up from my phone.
“That’s Cameron, I better get going, we have plans,” I lied.
I didn’t wait for him to say anything before taking off for my room.
With only ten minutes to spare, I quickly pulled my shirt over my head and kicked off my jeans. What to wear? What to wear?
I wasn’t trying to look cute for Bonham, and I didn’t want to alert Scott. Casual it was.
There wasn’t much time to sit and really debate over outfit choices. In the end, I grabbed a jersey-style top and paired it with some cut-offs.
I managed to stop and question if my underwear was sexy enough. Guys like Bonham didn’t really care, but it was principle. Hookups needed cute underwear.
Ah, hell, they were black, they were lace, and they hugged just enough of my parts to get Bonham’s blood flowing where I needed it to.
I flew down the stairs and managed to wave to Scott before slipping out into the night.
Bonham hadn’t shown up yet, but I wasn’t about to go back inside and suffer through more conversation with Scott.
The dark sky hung over my head, and with Meadow Grove being a small town, I got a good view of the stars above.
You didn’t get to see the stars in LA, too many lights and pollution.
This view was honestly spectacular. It was the kind of thing that made you pause and appreciate the universe or whatever.
“Saylor.”
I heard his footsteps before I looked over and noticed Dreux approaching me. He’d been outside on his front porch playing guitar, which he’d set aside.
I wondered if he were any good.
“Hey, I just…wanted to apologize about my dad,” he stated as he came to a stop in front of me.
Dreux appeared uncomfortable just bringing it up, but because he was who he was, of course he’d come to make amends on his father’s behalf. His halo even shone bright in the moonlight.
“Don’t sweat it. You’re not him,” I said.
Dreux hung his head. “I’m trying not to be.”
Cameron must’ve been rubbing off on me, or else I wouldn’t have been nice enough to playfully nudge the boy in front of me. The boy with the freckles. “Trust me, I can spot an asshole a mile away and you’re not one of them. Although it doesn’t hurt that he got you a new car.”
This still didn’t impress Dreux. “The car’s a few years old actually.”
“Still, it’s a sweet ride. I bet my old man wouldn’t shell out for a car. He probably knows I’d use it to get out of here.” I gave a lazy shrug. “At least you’re not defeated.”
Dreux shook his head. “Hemingway.”
Confused, I asked, “What about him?”
“He once wrote, ‘But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed, but not defeated.’ ”
I didn’t get it. “But when you destroy something, it’s gone.”
“Not entirely, you can just pick back up and rebuild. When you’re defeated, you give up.”
His words clicked in my head and I suddenly understood Hemingway. “You’re smart.”
Dreux cracked a smile. “Nah, I had to read that my sophomore year and some shit stuck.”
It was beyond obvious then why everyone loved Dreux. He was what I wasn’t: good.
Dreux was the patron saint of all things holy and pure.
Honking sounded behind me, illustrating Bonham’s arrival.
Some large van was pulling up to the curb in front of my house. Bonham’s arm dangled out the window with a lit cigarette between his fingers.
Dreux tipped his head toward the awaiting vehicle. “That’s a bad idea.”
Honestly, his eager attempt to warn me was almost kinda cute. “Once you get to know me, you’ll find out I’m full of them.”
I started backing away toward the van, but Dreux spoke again.
“Something tells me this town isn’t ready for a hurricane like you,” he said.
As much of a wreck as I was, I liked this analogy.
“You might be right.” I faced him one final time, finding him serious in all his handsomeness.
I could tell he didn’t do it on purpose, but I hated the way he looked at me.
Those dark eyes of his, they tried to read my soul, and no one was getting in there.
I waved goodbye. “See ya, Druski.”
Without looking back, I made my way up to Bonham’s van.